


All At Once

by charmed4fiction



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Edward using adult language, Gimme all you got, Home, M/M, RoyEd Week, RoyEd Week 2016, Soulmates, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed4fiction/pseuds/charmed4fiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of shorts for RoyEd Week 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Open You’re Eyes

_Open Your Eyes_

“You came!" Roy said breathlessly, pulling him into an embrace. Edward let him hug him, seeming almost embarrassed as he snuggled closer in his arms.

“I always come home, when you call my name,” Edward whispered.

“But are you really here or is this one of those eerily realistic dreams?”

“I’m here, Colonel. I’m always here.”

Roy sighs, “Good.”

“So, how long have been down here?”

“Since you left.”

“And the gate, why haven’t you close it?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For me?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Okay, just checking! I think its time.”

“For what?”

“To open your eyes.”

“I don’t want to…” He sighed heavily. He knew what he’d find if he opened his eyes, even as they opened, bleary and reddened—He picked up the fallen chalk off the floor and began to trace the outlines of the transmutation circle again.

 

 ~o~

 

_What I’m Fighting For_

He’d planned the whole evening out. He had so many things he wanted to say to him. But, like everything in his life, this was not going to be easy.

He smiled at him, stunned and still processing the fact that he was alive. He was alive. Heart pounding in his ears loudly, he began. “You’re the only one I ever wanted to fight for, Edward. I waited…I know you’d come back. I know that you’d come back to me. You came back home. You are home, and I’m never letting you go again.”


	2. Open You’re Eyes

Edward’s voice was still resonating within him even after his death, “You are my only one.”

He had to learn to tune them out, to deny his words, deny the way his body ached and convulsed when he remembered his near lifeless form in his arms. The way his blood-flecked lips had quivered around those lethal words. Words that are artfully and intricately etched across the left side of his ribs.

He would have to wait another one hundred years for his rebirth or another one of humanities next uprisings.

They’ve been in this cycle for as long as time exist.

Soulmates that’s what they were, what they were meant to be, but life is bittersweet, and the road towards blissful happiness is only but a child's fairytale.

It was during the Battle of Kadesh; at the stroke of midnight, an elite branch of the immortal assassins had infiltrated the Hyksos dynasty in hopes of expelling the monarchy. What they encountered was, or what Roy encountered was a majestic being, pure as the sun, more beautiful than all the riches of the Great Egypt Empire. Words could not quite encapsulate his beauty, heart-stopping, breathtaking, hypnotic, his name; Edward Elric.

At the time Roy did not know that this mysterious creature would be his soulmate, it would take countless human wars to recognize that their paths had already been chosen for them.

He doesn’t quite recall the Cretan War, but what he remembered was Edward’s beautiful, naked body tangled in a mess of sheets. He remembered his cries in the name of a deep and unabridged passion. He remembered the way his entire body pulsed around him when he was buried inside. He remembered the hours, the days, the weeks they stayed in bed, both of them drugged, victims to the all-engrossing hunger, burning desire, satisfaction to ravish each other. Edward at the time had whispered under the covers, “You are my only one.”

The moment each single word had escaped from his lips, they were etched into the side of his ribs. The pain from each stroke of the letters emblazoned into his skin held no comparison to the pain he’d been succumbed to since he was created. The anguish of losing Edward over and over, time and time again during each cycle of Earth’s wars.

By all counts, Edward should not be a slave to death. But that was his fate, a cruel one at that, to give up his life for humanity so that they could continue to flourish and nurture the next generation of other lesser beings and thus kick starting the next cycle of life and death.

The year is two thousand sixteen.

Humanity’s existence is coming to an end. A colossal revolution is on the horizon and Edward, would be appearing soon. This time around Roy hopes he can return the favor to Edward, to forever seal his soul to his and with the words that he’d never once had the heart to say, “You’re all I need."


	3. Out Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward didn’t know what came over him last night. It had taken only one kiss, one fucking delicious kiss. 

Edward didn’t know what came over him the last night. It had taken only one kiss, one fucking delicious kiss. 

The bastard had kissed him without abandon and he, Edward had returned one that amassed to all the powerful desire he’d kept hidden inside him for too long.

He fucking had—has the hots for Mustang, plain and simple. Have you seen the bastard? He’s inherently sex. He’s the embodiment of the word. He exemplifies it; sex, nothing else, but sex, sex, more sex and that is all coupled with hot as hell sin. 

He’s a fucking sin, rightfully so, and he knows it—

He’d taken a gambled and masked his desire for him with hatred. That was virtually the only way to hunker down his raging teenage hormones from pumping out of his veins onto Mr. Perfect with that devil-gives-a-shit smirk. 

Last night, it pretty much went downhill or uphill, however which way you look at it or take into consideration the events that took place when he was out with Mustang, and all the other fucking idiots in his retinue, excluding Hawkeye of course. 

Throwing back a couple of beers, acting like he was a respectable adult and playing spin the fucking bottle— Who in their right mind still plays that game? Well, they played and fucking Havoc doubled dared Mustang to kiss him— What the fuck? It was like he had some bright as fuck neon sign hanging around his neck, with the words, “Dreams about kissing Roy Mustang”. Not that he'll ever deny that he dreams about the bastard constantly, mind you, well mostly to himself to others, hell fuck yeah he'll deny the shit out of that statement. 

By the way, he did not indulged in anymore than two beers, tops. Maybe two and half, the half was wasted, obviously after Mustang planted one on his lips.

The kiss ended by Hawkeye, who cleared her throat and asked that they refrained from giving the other patrons nightmares. As if— said patrons were either too intoxicated to take notice and the ones that, inconceivably were nosy, too nosy for their own good, clinked their glasses loudly before they all said in unison, “Bout damn time” and “to the Fuhrer and the People’s Alchemist”. 

Havoc and Breda were besides themselves; mouth gaping and eyes bulging. Their hysteria was slightly disconcerting. But, Ed can't help but feel a surmountable pang of victory at the expense of Havoc’s reaction. Serves him right. It was his brilliant idea after-all to play the game. On the other hand, Fuery got quite uncomfortable. He didn't know someone was capable of fidgeting in a chair as much as he did— but he, more or less had it down to an art and Edward is damn sure that his face could not get any redder. And Falman, he was as stoic as one could be— Edward was almost expecting him to break out some unknown fact like, "Statistically ninety percent of hate is always a cover for something deeper " or some shit like that. He didn’t if you're wondering, had anything to say. 

Edward was under the impression that he had the part of about covering his true feelings Mustang well under wraps. Unbeknown to him, everyone else saw through is his thinly veil facade and poor attempt to hide his truest feelings. Surprisingly though after the initial shock of Mustang gusty move to kiss him, everyone seemed relieved and even voiced, similar to the other patrons in the bar that it was high time that they stopped skittering around one another with insults and other non-sequential bullshit to see they were truly meant for each other. 

Fuck, he didn’t think he was that transparent to anyone besides Al.  Who had first hand knowledge that he wanted to jump Mustang’s bones or in his head, fuck him senselessly. 

Alphonse’s obligatory response to Edward’s dilemma was “Brother, if you don’t tell him how you feel, I will.” 

Little brothers and their uncharacteristically and innate ability to sucker punch older brothers into doing just about anything to get their own way.  Edward is definitely not denying that he’s a push over when it comes to Alphonse. Because matter of factly, he is a complete and utter, flailing push over when it come to Alphonse. Hence, why he’s sitting with Mustang’s team, his former team, his friends after his long stint out West, drinking and celebrating the bastard’s claim to the Fuhrership. 

What, it’s been four years since his return to Central and Mustang… by all counts is still an insufferable and infuriating bastard—but had he even aged a day? Of course not, that’s too trivial for his perfect face, who-gives-him-the-right-to slick-back-his-hair, wearing casual clothing with the cuff of his blue shirt rolled up, leaving his forearms bare. And weirdly enough Edward can’t help but to be fascinated when his muscles flex as he brings the glass of whatever amber liquid he's drinking to his lips causing him to stare, dumbstruck.

And does he know how his heart is a fluttering mess, currently? How he feels about him? Naturally one would think, or else he would not have kiss him. And what’s up with the way he’d been checking him out all night with his smarmy as fuck eyes. Which is rather presumptuous of him to think taking into account that the bastard’s eyes are his Achilles’ heel? 

So he wasn't exactly shrewdly careful, masking his feelings under pretense for Mustang. But what’s more alarming is that he did not correct Havoc and the others when they unconstrained let out that both of them were head over heals in cahoots for the other. 

Unfortunately, just as Edward was about to ask Mustang why he’d kissed him the way he did, Hawkeye, with her sixth sense, subtlety suggested that the Fuhrer, invites Edward over to his place. Again, what fuck was up with his subordinates and their need to push him closer to Mustang. He should not be complaining, but he wanted to set the pace and find a sizable amount of gumption to approach said bastard that was asking Edward if he'd like to see what his new place looks like. 

Fuck, he was looking at him, expression darkened or maybe it was the incandescent lights from the bar which danced around his face accentuating the natural tones. Edward, seriously, when did he become poetic?—Shit, weren’t he thinking about something besides the bastard’s visually stunning face. Something…think…what had Al said about code and inviting someone back to their place after a night out drinking meant?

"Edward?" He raked his hands through his hair in a way that, fuck that should not be hot, but like everything the bastard does—adds to list, mentally on quirks he adores about Mustang— is even more appealing and alluring to him than some other men. Make no mistake Edward is not awkwardly attracted to any other man, boy or woman for that matter, but one self imposing bastard. He's merely making a comparison, which is generally unfair when Mustang is always in a league by himself. 

Edward has it bad. Can he say fuck again? Because fuck, he has it bad and he should be responding to the Mustang and saying something along the lines "I thought you'd never ask" and fuck that code Al mentioned means that Mustang was inviting him over to—

"Edward?" He’d look perpetually agonized.   

"Uhh...okay!" was the only coherently words he could manage to accept Mustang's... Hawkeye's invitation. 

Taking a breath, he pushed his forgotten beer aside and met his expectant gaze. That was a mistake number one because he was unmistakably under scrupulous scrutiny and Edward indulging fantasies took control. Mistake number two; Mustang licked his lips and winked. He winked, like that sexy wink models on the cover on magazines use to entice readers to buy their product. Edward glared at him, but mostly he was trying to feigned anger because the hairs on his neck prickled at the salacious looks Mustang was giving off. Mistake number three; Edward mouth started to move at its own free will and before his brain could play catch he had said, “Excellent! But, I want to talk to you about something first."

His brow furrowed, "Is that so."

"Yes, bastard!” Edward stood up. "Now!"

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever you have to say, can it be said to my subordinates as well?" Edward cast a furtive glance towards, almost forgotten, subordinates who were downright invested, as they took in their little exchange. 

"I doubt that..." he trailed off, sounding frustrated, "but if you insist, I could tell them that I..." He bit into his bottom lip and Mustang face visibly paled. He was up in a heartbeat. He grabbed his wrist and tugged him forward.

A few hearty articulated gestures to Hawkeye, as an assurance that he did not intend to get himself into trouble and he whisked Edward away.

A few seconds later they were outside finding themselves in the back seat of his car. Heat was curling in the pit of Edward’s belly and it wasn’t because of the way Mustang exude his masculinity or and it had nothing to do whatsoever with his possessiveness. He was distracted enough with the way his thumb traced the outlines of his veins on his wrist and up his entire, pre-automail hand. How his fingers traced the outline of his mouth. How his next words drifted over his body, lingering, sparking, sending shivers up and down his spine.

“I don’t want to do slow. I want you…I wanted you for a long time.”

Edward did not respond and Mustang did not wait for him to think about one. His lips found his and ‘delicious kiss’ was a thing of the past. This new kiss was engrossing, powerful, fearless as it trapped him in a heralding song of pleasure.

No one had ever kissed him before and if he had something to compare— Winry and Granny did not count, they would not be as good as Mustang.

Only Mustang knew where to kiss him to make him moan. If ever he heard a moan before, because he was moaning and arching his back, tilting his neck when he found his good spot…this was wanton behavior. He was acting like a wanton and he did not give a hoot…fuck, clarification.

He didn’t know how long they kissed.

One minute.

Ten minutes.

He didn’t care. He wanted this and he did not want slow. He was doing slow from since he was—he was not going to divulged that little fact. 

He wanted, had always wanted to drown in Mustang. He wanted him, had wanted him for years, had dreamed about his lips. Lips that were always curved in a self-satisfied smirk. Lips that were apparently in on a secret. A secret that Edward was now privy too and was overwhelmingly giving everything to him.

He wanted him. He wanted his heart, his soul and everything that makes him so god damn perfect.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, “so irresistibly beautiful.”

His words was hot on his skin. He could taste them. They intoxicated him. And to his absolute and terrifying amazement words that did not seem to quite fit but what else can he say when he’d waited so long for this, had imagined it so often.

It was so much better though-much better than what his indulging fantasies could come up with.

“Gimme all you got, bast…Roy.”

It was enough as he enveloped him his embrace, “Here..now?” He asked hesitantly. Edward nodded. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

“I don’t expect you to be…Although this would be my first time…so…maybe gentle if you can manage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realized that I used the "f word" quite a lot. When I wrote this chapter I was angry and sometimes I used Ed as an escape. So if the language is not to anyone's liking I can always omit. I don't swear at all out-loud, like I'm not joking. I don't at all, but I read them and write them for Edward. Again he's my ultimate daily escape as well as Roy. 
> 
> Also on a side note, I hope this chapter was enjoyable.


	4. Vibrare Forte L’anima

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roy is a Pilot and I love AU's
> 
> I should be sleeping instead this popped into my head and I figured why not... 
> 
> RoyEd week day 6 - 'thirty seconds'

_**Approximately five minutes, thirty-seconds: final boarding call for Amestris Airlines flight 520 to Xing.** _

 

Edward stood there, looking awkward.

Roy offered him a grin, unstrained but tentative. “If you’re wondering, this would be the perfect time to kiss me.”

Edward launched at him suddenly, his arms wrapping around him, squeezing him, almost to the point of suffocating him. “Idiot bastard…you are crazy and I want to be with you too.”

He reached up, grabbed fists full of his shirt and pulled him down to him, smashing his lips against his.

“One week, bastard. I’ll be waiting.”

Roy had gotten more than he’d expected. A promise of a future with Edward and he was thrilled in more ways that he could ever begin to imagine.

The flight attendant tapped his shoulder, “Captain, I believe we have a schedule to maintain, its time for us to depart.”

“Edward?” He looked at him, knowing. “I love you and one week.”

Roy followed the flight attendant into the airplane, but before he stepped through the cabin door, he glanced back at Edward, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally the flight attendant is Riza.


End file.
